“That’s okay. I know a lot about food. It’s kind of my thing.” He offered an encouraging smile.
Ezra swallowed, his slender throat jogging, and said tentatively, “I like grilled cheese.”
It wasn’t a proper dinner, more like a snack, but Roman could work with that. “Perfect. I already have what we need.”
“I like it with two slices of American cheese on white bread with no crusts. I like the surface of the bread to be slightly buttery and toasted but without any char.”
When Ezra had said particular, he’d meant it. There was also the problem that Roman didn’t have American cheese as it was mostly sodium, food coloring, and fillers. That it should be classified as “cheese” was debatable. He listed some alternative cheeses, but Ezra shook his head (or made faces) at every single one.
“Well, what else do you like?” he asked the young man.
“I like frozen chicken nuggets, baked not microwaved.”
Roman didn’t have those either and if he told Ezra what parts of the chicken they actually were, he might not want to eat them anymore.
“Okay, what else?”
“French fries if they are crisp and not too salty and mashed potatoes without any lumps or skins.”
Roman had potatoes, so that was a start. “Do you like any vegetables.”
“Frozen peas.”
“Anything else?” Roman asked, dismayed, but Ezra’s look said it all. “I can heat up some peas to go with it.”
“No, I like them frozen.”
Roman honestly didn’t believe him, so he poured a small bowl of frozen peas and served them with a spoon. Ezra took to eating them like it was a bowl of cereal. No wonder the young man was so slender. Roman worried sincerely about whether or not his diet was meeting the most basic nutrition requirements. He decided right then and there that he would figure out Ezra’s ideal palate and work within its bounds. While he peeled and boiled the potatoes, he asked Ezra to continue with his diagnosis of the living room.
“The thing I need to know in order to continue my work,” Ezra said, “is are you a lumper or a splitter?” Roman stared at him blankly, thinking this might be another computer programming reference. Ezra continued, “In taxonomy, there tends to be two types of people, splitters and lumpers. Splitters like to divide things into their separate buckets. For instance, in the genus of oak, there is the speciesquercus laurifoliaandquercus hemisphaerica, which are technically the same species except for the small difference in the amount of ‘hair’ on the axles of their leaves. Some taxonomists would prefer to lump the two under the same species ofquercus laurifolia, that being the earlier designation, while others, the splitters, would want to distinguishhemisphaericaas its own distinct subspecies.”
Roman was sure that Ezra was speaking English, as well as a little bit of Latin, but he still had no idea how the classification of oak trees pertained to his living room. “Can you give me a more concrete example?”
Ezra smiled as if delighted to further elucidate him. “I, myself, am a splitter, so if we used your menus as an example, I would not only classify them according to cuisine, but I might further split them into price range or mealtime: breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I might also want to classify them according to the protein or main ingredient, or whether they sound good or disgusting. There are endless ways in which to categorize things, but I’m interested to know your personal preference.”
It struck Roman as incredibly thoughtful that Ezra would make such an effort. It also gave him an insight to the very complex and analytical way in which his mind worked. “Well, as a rule, I’d say that I’m more of a lumper, but for the purpose of the menus, I like your classification system of sorting them by cuisine. I don’t think it’s necessary to divide them any further than that.”
Ezra nodded, making a note of it on his tablet. “I will organize your periodicals, those you choose to keep, similarly by type, i.e. fitness, leisure, sports, etcetera. And your trade catalogs will be alphabetized by vendor.”
Roman nodded along, now onto the stage of mashing the potatoes and adding butter, salt, and milk. If it were only for himself, he would have mixed in a spoonful of sour cream and diced chives as well, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He blended them thoroughly with a handheld mixer to make sure there were no lumps. Ezra winced and put his hands over his ears during the noisy part. From that, Roman deduced that Ezra was sensitive to sounds as well as particular about food.
“There you are.” Roman served Ezra his plate of mashed potatoes before taking a portion for himself.
Ezra ate with the same methodical focus that he did everything else. When he had finished roughly half, he smiled at Roman and said with complete sincerity, “These are the best mashed potatoes I’ve ever had.”
Roman’s heart swelled at the compliment because he suspected Ezra was truly a tough critic when it came to food. But the real source of his joy was in feeding him more so than the dish’s actual flavor, which Roman considered to be somewhat bland.
“Are you going to eat the rest?” Roman asked. There was quite a bit left on his plate.
Ezra shook his head. “I’m full.”
Roman didn’t think it was nearly enough, considering Ezra hadn’t eaten all day, but he wasn’t going to force the issue. “We still have the problem of the refrigerator. You need to be able to use it and store your own food in there as well.”
“I was thinking I might push my diversionary activities to Sunday and deep clean the refrigerator tomorrow. It would mean a delay on the living room project.” He nibbled on his lower lip and Roman didn’t know if his worries stemmed from his own timeline or Roman’s.
“I’ve lived like this for a while. I don’t mind things being messy for a little longer.”
Ezra sighed as if reluctant to let it go. “Very well. It’ll give you time to decide what you’d like to keep and what you’d like to discard. I might also suggest some bins and collapsible file folders to store your things.”
